


Butterfly Watusi

by Ceredwen



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: help_chile, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceredwen/pseuds/Ceredwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius learns the value of planning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly Watusi

**Author's Note:**

> Written for help_chili. Thank you to whitmans_kiss for the beta.

Lungs aching with the effort to suck in more air, Sirius pounded down the putrid smelling London back-alley, freezing rain pelting his face and soaking into his clothes. He hung a right, hand bracing on the corner of a building to swing himself into the turn and nearly slipping to a fall, then took a left onto an open cobblestone street before making a right into yet another alley, racing as fast as his feet would allow. Somewhere behind him he could hear the voices which no longer bothered with being careful. "That way!" "No! Turn here!" "I just heard something down over there!"

Humorlessly, he recalled Dumbledore's words against splitting up. But this _had_ been the best option when it came down to it, and after all, they had managed to break up the Death Eater's meeting.

Not that this had been the objective.

Another left had Sirius almost flying straight into the remains of a brick and mortar retaining wall three steps into the turn. He put his hands up, palms slamming into the gritty brick with a sickening crack in his left wrist. It took every ounce of will power he had not to cry out in pain, cradling the broken wrist close to his body. The voices were louder now, closer, and his only option for survival was to Apparate out of this location and double back to find James and the motorbike. When he tried though, he could feel the Anti-Apparition wards push hard against his person.

"Where the fuck are you, Prongs, you tosser," he muttered under his breath. "Take any longer and you'll be out one best mate."

From two streets over, he could hear the voices closing in. If he had time, he would have consulted the mirror, but time was something he was rather short on.

Sirius sighed. "There's no help for it." He raised his right hand and flicked his wand at the wall. "_Deprimo!_"

Protectively, Sirius brought up the end of his soaking wet cloak to shield his face and eyes from the debris the blast sent out, but it wasn't quite in time. The sting from several cuts and abrasions burned his cheek and jaw, but it wasn't something he had time to consider. Scrambling through the hole, he found that the alley emptied onto another cobblestone street. Looking both ways and having no real idea which way was safest, Sirius took a right and hoped.

"Did you hear that?" "That way! That way!" "We've almost got the bastard!"

_Well, Black, old friend_, thought Sirius, _you've had a good run, mate. Good friends, exciting times, and living by your wits and all of that, but I think your number just might be up._

Running as fast as his now aching lungs and legs would let him, he made a right onto another alley, and then hooked a left, hoping that if his trail was at least confusing or varied it would buy him some time. Turning another right onto an open asphalt road, surprisingly modern for this area of London, Sirius heard the sweetest sound in the distance.

"Bless you, Prongs, you twat," he murmured, before tearing off in the direction of the engine's rumble. James was coming to his rescue. Finally.

With a loud squeal, James landed the bike, skidding to a halt that covered Sirius in a coating of oily water. Shaking his head like a dog and spitting out foul rain water, Sirius leapt onto the bike behind James, his left wrist still cradled close to his body.

"Go! Go! Go!" he shouted.

James gunned the engine with Sirius clinging on with one hand as they took off down the road. Sirius' pursuers turned the corner and began firing off hexes as the bike rocketed into the air. Sirius erected a Shield Charm to deflect the oncoming assault, holding his breath until the cold mist from the cloud cover hit his cheeks.

"Fuck me," he murmured. "That was close. Too close."

He pinched James in the side.

"Oi!"

"Where the fuck were you?"

"Same as you; I nearly got my arse handed to me."

Sirius had nothing to say in response to that, so he just closed his eyes and tried to shut out the pain in his wrist. He could feel the tension in James, in the tight set of his shoulders, and knew the adrenaline still pumping furiously through his own veins had a match in his best friend. He also knew one other thing. They might have survived this scrabble with the Death Eaters, but they were by no means out of the woods.

It would be a miracle if Lily didn't hex them both where they stood for their stupidity.

***

James and Sirius spilled into the tiny vacant house that served as safe place for the Order. It was a short ride by air, located on the outskirts of a tiny village just outside of London. James had sent word by Patronus that they would be convening there to let their trail go cold. The house was sparsely furnished with a few rundown couches and chairs, and two beds that smelled of mildew. The kitchen was serviceable enough, and there was running water. If need be, one could hide there for a pair of days under the protection of a Fidelius Charm, jealously guarded by Dumbledore himself.

Sitting on one of the couches situated on the far wall in an adjacent room was a surprise that Sirius had not anticipated. He had not seen Remus since their last day at school, two months prior, as they had both been busy with various tasks for the Order. In all honesty, that had come as a relief. For the last six months Sirius had felt a growing sense of unease around Remus. His throat would run dry while his palms moistened and turned clammy, and a funny, fizzy feeling would tickle and curl around his spine. Remus behaved oddly around him as well, a bright blush coloring the tops of his cheeks when their eyes would meet and his words would come out halting and stammered. Sirius felt frustrated and helpless to explain what had happened to the two of them. At least with the Snape incident he could understand why there had been a strain for several months after. This came with no explanation, no sound reasoning to defend the awkwardness between them.

"James Potter, you utter git!"

Sirius blinked as Lily came from around a corner. His thoughts fled from Remus to his personal safety as he James took an unconscious step backward in unison. Lily had her wand raised and she looked to mean business.

"Now Lily-" started James, attempting to placate his fiancée, but her death glare quelled his speech into silence.

"Oh, Merlin! Sirius! What happened to you? You're soaking wet!" she said as her eyes moved from the silenced James to Sirius. She whacked James over the head with an open hand. "How could you not take better care of Sirius! You know what a fool he is!"

Sirius wasn't sure whether to be offended by her comment or grateful that Lily wasn't loosing her ire on him. In the far room, Remus had come to his feet to get a closer look at Sirius, his expression concerned. Their eyes met again and Sirius got that funny feeling once more, and he could feel his cheeks warming.

"Oh tosh!" said Lily sternly, as she removed his outer robes. The white oxford underneath clung to his skin, made more noticeable by the chill air in the cottage. Remus stepped a little closer, eyes wide and on Sirius' chest which made him feel oddly exposed. "There is no need for you to be embarrassed about a few cuts and bruises," continued Lily. "Come into the kitchen so I can dry you off and patch you up, and why are you holding your arm so?"

"Wrist," squeaked Sirius, and then cleared his throat. "My wrist, I think it's broken."

Lily whacked James again. "How could you let him break his wrist?"

James looked scandalized, and gave Sirius a glare for daring to break his wrist and let him take the blame. Sirius had no time to offer an answer or point out that Lily was making these assumptions all on her own. She took Sirius firmly by the bicep of his good arm and dragged him to the kitchen. There, already sitting at the shabby kitchen table deep in conversation were Dumbledore and Moody.

"Sir," said Sirius on catching the look in Dumbledore's eye. Lily pushed him into a chair and started to dry his hair with a conjured towel.

"I understand you have had something of an adventure," said Dumbledore mildly. "Can I assume then that your mission was a success?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "Er."

Lily gave up on the towel and started drying Sirius with her wand. He felt someone pass behind him into the kitchen - Remus, who gave Sirius a soft smile. The absolute explosion of butterflies in Sirius' stomach was completely unexpected. For just a minute he nearly felt dizzy. He decided that it must be from the pain in his wrist; never mind the fact that the endorphins complicating his thought pattern made it almost impossible to locate his wrist, much less worry over pain. Helpless to do otherwise, Sirius watched Remus approach the stove and begin to make tea; fascinating subject, tea.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "The mission was not a success, then."

Sirius startled and blinked a few times having quite forgotten the others in the room. "We broke up the meeting.”

Moody snorted. "They've got talent, Albus," he growled. "I'll give you that, but they're untrained. I think you're setting your expectations too damn high for a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears teenagers."

Sirius squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, the pleasant if distracting butterflies ground into the floor under Moody's sandpaper growl.

"Perhaps James and Sirius aren't the best combination in all circumstances," mused Dumbledore. Sirius said nothing as blue eyes ghosted over him, then trailed first to Lily and then to James loitering in the doorway.

"Does that hurt, love?" asked Lily soothingly, gingerly touching his broken wrist. Sirius simply nodded; too much was happening for him to trust his voice. He couldn't really defend his actions to Dumbledore and Moody, and the complication with Remus was straining his ability to reason.

"Lily, if I might have a word in private. James, you as well," said Dumbledore rising.

"Oh," said Lily. "Of course." She gave a worried glance to Sirius.

"I'll take care of him," said Remus quietly. "Goodness knows I have enough experience with healing broken bones."

"I've got to make a report," said Moody gruffly. "I trust you know what you're doing, Albus?"

"I have faith," said Dumbledore. He put a hand on Lily's shoulder and guided her out of the kitchen. James followed after giving one look back. Sirius could swear he was smirking, but not at him. That supremely smug expression was for Remus. This couldn't get more puzzling.

"Here," said Remus, setting a cup of tea in front of Sirius, who noted the faint blush coloring Remus' cheeks. How curious.

Remus sat beside him with a cup of tea of his own. "May I see your wrist?"

Sirius took a sip of tea to steady himself. Why he needed steadying, he didn't know. The liquid was warm and perfect, Earl Grey by the taste with two sugars and a splash of milk. _May all the gods bless this house and whoever maintains it_, thought Sirius reverently. He swallowed that first divine sip, eyes closed as he gathered his strength. He opened them and nodded to Remus.

Long, careful fingers set down the tea cup they were holding and then landed lightly on Sirius' wrist, taking it with gentle firmness and surety to lift it up for examination. Sirius found he was quite unable to breathe as Remus gently probed his injured wrist, carefully feeling for the break. Sirius had no idea if Remus knew what he was doing or not, but he found that he was fascinated by the look of concentration and concern on Remus' face.

"Wrist breaks are dodgy," said Remus quietly, apparently aware of the scrutiny. That blush that had been there earlier was back with a vengeance. "I don't think I'm going to try a spell. You'll need a potion for this."

"Okay," said Sirius. Had Remus' voice always been churned-butter smooth? He had the oddest desire to wrap himself up in that voice, like an old familiar blanket, to hide under its shelter as though a child with a favorite protector. It was most distressing, these barmy thoughts he had been having, but when Remus looked up and smiled, setting the butterflies to rampage once again, Sirius had trouble remembering why he cared.

"I haven't seen you for awhile," said Remus, rising from his chair and walking to the cupboard where the healing supplies were kept.

Remus never simply said something. When Remus spoke, running under the things he said were the cross-currents of the things he wanted to say but wouldn't. Sirius wondered if it had to do with the new strangeness between them that was apparently allowed to linger but couldn't be addressed. Not that he had plans to address it. What would he say? I feel all funny when I'm around you and don't know why, care to explain? That would never do.

"Order work," he said instead. "How have you been?"

Remus opened the cupboard door and then paused. "The same; I hadn't been getting very far with my assignment, so Dumbledore has pulled me off of it for a bit."

"Were you - are you alright?" asked Sirius. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Remus turned around with the potion bottle in his hand; a small smirk played on his lips. "You mean like some people who go in without a plan?"

Sirius grinned in return. "I live by my wits, Remus, old cock, and as you can see I am roughly in one piece."

Remus pulled a spoon out of a drawer with a dramatic roll of the eye. "Barely; I'm terrified to let you see what you've done to your face."

"It will give me character," said Sirius. "Make me ruggedly handsome."

"What bollocks," said Remus, measuring out some potion. "Here, take this. I don't believe I've known anyone more full of shit than you, Padfoot."

Sirius smirked. "You love me for it."

The spoon in Remus' hand dropped to Sirius' lap, giving him a wet stain in the crotch.

"Bloody hell, I'm sorry," said Remus, clearly embarrassed. "Let me get you a towel." He hurried to a drawer and pulled out a worn cup-towel. Sirius stood and took it from him and started to dab at the wet spot on his trousers.

"Dumbledore just left and he said he wanted - oh, whoa, did I just interrupt something?" James' matter of fact facial expression slid slowly into a knowing grin.

"What?" said Sirius. Bewildered, he looked from James to Remus, who was sporting a vibrant, tomato-red blush.

"James, don't," pleaded Remus wearily. "It was just an accident. I spilled some potion on Padfoot."

"Oh," said James. He looked disappointed which was unaccountably absurd. “Well, er, Padfoot, Dumbledore wants you to work with-”

“Me!” said Lily brightly, pushing James out of her way to enter the kitchen. “And unlike _some_ people, _I_ won't let you go off half-cocked.”

Sirius looked between James and Lily, blinking, and then turned to Remus. “You got anything in the cupboard for pain? I think I'm going to need it.”

***

“That's your plan?” asked Lily skeptically.

Sirius took a moment to draw a breath, staring down at the wet gravel. He was pretty sure he hadn't used the word 'plan' at all. In fact, he believed what he said was 'let's just play it by ear and see what happens.' Technically, that wasn't actually a plan.

“Er, well-” he began, but the look in Lily's eyes stopped him. He was going to say that was how he and James always did it, but something told him that would put James' life on the line.

“No wonder you two are always covered in scrapes and bruises,” she huffed. “I can't believe I didn't ask you what the plan was before we left for Liverpool.”

“Now, look,” said Sirius defensively. “We've been pretty damn successful using that… plan. The last mission was a fluke.”

Lily held up a finger. “On your first mission together you wrecked a police car and in the process exposed our world to the authorities all in one go. Nicely done.”

“Hang on now,” argued Sirius. “That was completely different, you can't compare the two.”

Lily held up a second finger. “On the second mission you shared together, fourteen wildebeests mysteriously escaped from the London zoo. Very pro-animal rights; I commend your efforts.”

“There was a perfectly good explanation for that,” said Sirius weakly, and then added, “We needed a suitable distraction.”

Lily ignored his protests and held up a third finger. “On your third mission together, you nearly sank a barge to the bottom of the Thames, crew and all.”

“We didn't let the damn barge sink, and that was completely not our fault!” he hissed, full of righteous indignation.

“On your fourth mission,” she continued, four fingers held high and wiggling. “You destroyed a London landmark and managed to break your wrist.”

“And on your fifth mission,” growled a gravely voice behind Sirius' left ear, “You got yourself killed.” A wand pushed uncomfortably under Sirius' jaw, beside him Lily stiffened. “I could hear the two of you squabbling from two streets over.”

Sirius didn't dare turn his head, but strained his gaze to the left. Moody's swiveling false eye was piercing into his two good ones.

“Mission's over,” said Moody gruffly. “Evans, next time you're with Potter. Black, we're giving you a go with Lupin. Maybe he can put some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

***

Jittery and nervous, mood swinging between giddy euphoria and grumpy irritability, Sirius stood on the doorstep to Remus' postage stamp he affectionately referred to as 'home.' Sirius was excited about the mission; it was the only explanation for his pent up energy. That he didn't normally have pre-mission nerves was not to be dwelt on.

He rapped smartly on the door and a moment later it was opened to reveal Remus and the aroma of freshly brewed tea. Sirius' palms began to sweat as the butterflies slipped on their dancing shoes. Remus was in his house slippers, big, brown comfortable things and completely wrong for mission work. He was also wearing his good cardigan (the light brown one with no patches and all of its buttons) and a faint blush.

“You're not ready to go,” said Sirius. He frowned at Remus' slippers.

“Go?”

“I thought, well… we have a mission,” said Sirius.

Remus smiled. “We have to plan first, of course. Come in out of the cold, you're letting all the heat out.”

Sirius stepped across the threshold. Remus' flat consisted of one room, three doors, a bed, a couch and a kitchen table with two chairs. One door led into the house, one to the loo, and the last was a closet. Sirius knew all this because he had been here before, but he could never quite fathom why Remus had chosen to live on his own when he could have shared Sirius' spacious townhome. There was barely room to turn around.

From an old Victrola warbled a catchy big band tune that Sirius couldn't possibly name because his taste in music was vastly superior. On the walls were hung a few pictures of family; Remus' mum and dad and the odd cousin or aunt, along with a few tatty art posters he had picked up cheap in Camden.

Sirius walked the one or two steps to the kitchen table and fell into a chair. The teacup Remus set in front of him was a bit too dainty for Sirius' tastes, decorated with flowers and chipped porcelain. It was another find from Camden, Sirius knew, because tea always came with an apology for the service it was served with.

“Sorry about the-”

Sirius held up a hand and smiled; their eyes met and the butterflies danced a jig on his spleen.

“Well, I just know you have it nicer at home, is all,” said Remus deprecatingly, “but I thought it might be prudent to meet here.”

“Prudent?”

“If we met at your place,” said Remus, “there would be no plan.”

“Our orders were to see what we could pick up from watching the coming and going from-” he paused, reaching into his robes for a scrap of parchment, “this address here.”

“Mm,” agreed Remus. “I think we should look at the location on a map and see where the best observation point might be.” He tapped his finger to a Muggle map of London spread out on the little table.

“Map?” asked Sirius. “Observation point?”

There was a hint of something amused in Remus' eyes, and his chin quivered beneath lips mashed into a line. “Let me guess,” he said. “You planned to just go, see who showed up, and maybe tail a few of them as they left.”

“What's wrong with that?” Sirius sipped his tea, scowling at Remus' map.

“To begin with, those aren't our instructions,” said Remus mildly.

“…well, erm.”

Remus smiled and laughed, a lovely sound really, Remus' laughter. It set a grin to creeping across Sirius’ face. He looked down at his tea for a moment and then back up at Remus. He was going to nod and agree, but Remus was still smiling and Sirius wondered what it would be like to kiss that smile.

Wait, what?

Sirius felt the sudden burst of heat in his face as the pieces began to fall into place. The butterflies kicked up their skirts to do the Can Can on his liver. His gaze moved from Remus’ mouth to his eyes. Remus was watching him right back, cheeks in vibrant bloom. Nervously, Sirius licked his lips.

“So,” said Remus, his voice a little breathier than normal, “I'm sure you see how your plan-”

“Technically not a plan,” whispered Sirius. The butterflies, having migrated from his liver to his spinal chord, were doing the Watusi up and down the length of it. Impulsively, he reached forward and pressed his mouth to Remus.

Remus' lips were warm, soft and perfect, and for a moment Sirius just held himself there, enjoying the dizzying sensations that came with kissing Remus John Lupin. When he blinked open his eyes, it was to find Remus staring back at him, his own eyes wide open in surprise.

Sirius pulled back, fearing he had made a mistake. He dropped his eyes in embarrassment. Careful fingers reached up into his hair, and pushed it out of his eyes, and tucked it behind his ear. Sirius raised his gaze to see Remus smiling at him, a big brilliant smile that gave Sirius no choice but reach forward again and kiss it. This time those perfect lips moved against his, slow and sure, sending the butterflies into a chorus of allelujahs.

“Sirius,” whispered Remus as he pulled back. “Padfoot, my Padfoot.”

“Moony,” said Sirius softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Remus'.

A hand found its way into his and gave a little squeeze.

“We need to plan,” said Remus. He didn't sound very enthusiastic.

“The very best things have no plan at all,” said Sirius, grinning.

Remus put on his prefect face and tapped the map.

Sirius sighed and turned his attention to the mission.

A moment later he felt a hand on his knee and grinned. Planning might not be so bad after all.


End file.
